I frowned down at the piece of paper in my hands.

“And you are sure this is entirely correct?” I asked.

My case worker nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” he said. “As things stand, within three months you’ll be out of money. Maybe four, if you watch your expenses.”

I looked up at him. “How can this be? According to my calculations…”

“I’m sorry, but I have to remind you once again that you’re not a financial expert, like I am,” he said, shaking his head. He turned his computer’s monitor around, showing a spreadsheet with lots of figures in it, and tapped a cell. “This here is your monthly income, which isn’t much, I have to say.”

I shrugged. “Being a Starbucks barista does not make much, but it was the best I could find.”

A nod. “And I understand, given the… circumstances,” he said. “Not many places are willing to hire a Repulsoid, we’ve been seeing many cases like yours.” He paused, and then continued, “So this, this, this, and this are your expenses. Food, utilities, rent, and various. Overall, you’re about a hundred fifty dollars short each month, so you’re chipping into your savings, and like I said, those will run out soon.”

I frowned at the screen, then looked at the sheet of paper again – which displayed the exact same figures, though more simplified. There was no misunderstanding it: he was right. I sighed. “What do you suggest I should do, then?”

“Well, first of all, you should cut down on your expenses as much as possible. Not utilities of course, those are a given, but you could stand to buy a little less food maybe? Though not if you were to go hungry because of it, of course,” he explained. “And you could cut the ‘various’ expenses down completely.”

I nodded. Well, that was that: no more buying merchandise, not for the foreseeable future.

“But even that won’t be enough to put you in the black,” my case worker continued. “To do that, you’ll have to save on rent.”

“And how do you suppose I do that? Like you said, not many places are willing to hire Repulsoids; there are even fewer who are willing to rent to us,” I replied. “And those who do charge a steep price for the privilege.”

He nodded in return. “Yes, I am quite aware of that. There is ongoing litigation regarding this issue, but nothing has come of it so far.” He sighed. “Racism was already bad, and now we had to go and add speciesim on top of that. Black and white, living in harmony, ganging up on green.” He looked at me with a slight smirk. “Or tabby, in this case. But anyway, the only thing you can do right now is to look for a roommate.”

I tilted my head to the side and looked at him curiously. “Someone to share a house or apartment with, you mean?”

“Precisely that. I have already compiled a list of openings in your area, I’ll send it to you by e-mail,” he said. “All of those are a bit more expensive than where you’re currently living, though not by much; and they’re definitely cheaper, once you consider that you’d be splitting the rent two or three or even four ways.”

I gave him a sceptical look. “I am sorry, but like you said, there is quite a bit of… speciesim going around. Do you really think I will find someone willing to live together with me?”

He shrugged. “We just have to hope for the best.” He shuffled some paperwork on his desk, and then looked up at me. “I think this is all for today.”

I nodded, stood up from the chair, stretched my tail, and offered him my hand. “Thank you for your time, and for your help.”

He nodded back as he shook my hand. “Best of luck with everything, Mister Elit.”

-----

I stepped out of the bus, and sighed as I looked up at the block of flats. A completely normal, nondescript residential building, set in the middle of a completely normal, nondescript residential neighbourhood: the exact same kind of building I’d stepped into a dozen times over the past few days, to interview for a roommate position. Every single one of them had ended with “I’m sorry, I just don’t think we’d be a good fit,” or some variation on that.

The ones that hadn’t refused to interview me in the first place when they’d realised I was a Repulsoid, that is.

Maybe I should have just given up on finding a roommate? And instead focused on finding a smaller place to live on my own. True, based on my budget, the new place would need to be tiny, necessitating me to put most of my belongings in storage. Which meant more expenses.

I sighed again. Well, I would need to think about it if this interview went south, too.

I crossed the street and rang the doorbell; after a minute or so, the intercom crackled to life.

“Yes?”

“Good afternoon, I am Elit,” I replied “We have spoken on the phone, I am here regarding the room?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” said the voice – a girl’s voice, it sounded like. “Come right in, second floor, third door on the right. Unit 203.”

The intercom clicked, and the door buzzed; I pushed it open, and climbed up the stairs to the second floor – there was an elevator too, I noticed: this would come in handy if I needed to bring something heavy here.

I made my way to unit 203, and knocked on the door: it opened to reveal a girl – young, probably around twenty-five to thirty – wearing leggings and a hoodie. She blinked in surprise when she saw me, but then smiled. “Hi!” she said. “Come in, come in.”

She stepped aside to let me into the apartment, and I looked around. The living room looked nice, and big enough for several people.

“I’m Irene, nice to meet you,” the girl said, closing the door and extending her hand towards me.

“Elit. A pleasure,” I said, shaking the offered hand. “Though I do have to say, you seemed surprised when you saw me.”

“Oh, that’s because I didn’t expect you to be a Repulsoid,” Irene explained. “I haven’t seen many of you before, so it’s always a bit surprising.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. “Alright,” I said. “And are you okay with it?”

She shrugged. “I’m not one to judge people for who they are. So, what do you say I give you a tour of the house?” she said; I nodded again, and followed her through a door into a corridor. “Here to your right you have the bathroom,” she said. “Only one, so we’d have to share. Completely normal bathroom, with a sink, toilet, and shower. It has a washing machine too, but no dryer. And no bathtub, I hope you don’t mind.”

I poked my head through the door and looked around. “Big enough. It has a window, at least,” I said. “The place I am living in right now only has a fan. Though I do not know if there is enough space for my litterbox.”

I turned back to face her, and saw that she was frowning. “Litterbox?” she asked, clearly puzzled.

I waited for a second, then smiled. “That was a joke,” I said. “We Repulsoids use toilets, too. But I have met several people who think otherwise.”

“Oh, ha ha, that’s funny!” Irene laughed. “But also a bit rude on their part.”

“Very,” I nodded.

She nodded back, and resumed the tour. “Three single bedrooms,” she said, pointing to three doors along the corridor. “One is mine, one for you, and I’ve converted the other into my work room.” She stopped, and turned back to me. “I’ll pay a bigger share of the rent, of course, since you’ll be using one room while I’m using two.”

I looked at her, my eyebrows rising. “Your work room? What do you do for work?”

“Oh, I’m a streamer,” she said. “I play video games over the Internet and other people watch me do that.”

She opened the door to let me take a look into the room: it had been lined with sound-absorbing panels – probably to avoid disturbing the neighbours – and had a computer, with added high-end camera and microphone, at the far end, opposite the window.

“Huh.” I tilted my head to the side. “Does it pay well?”

“Not nearly as much as I would like,” Irene replied, “but I make enough to pay the bills and rent. But I’d like to save some money, that’s why I’m looking for a roommate.”

I nodded, and followed her back to the living room. “And the kitchen’s through there,” she said, pointing to another door. “You can take a look if you want.”

“No, I am okay,” I said, waving my hand. “Shall we discuss the price?”

“Of course,” Irene nodded, and waved to the couch. “Take a seat.”

I sat down, folding my tail around my waist, and looked at her expectantly.

“The rent for this place,” she said, waving her hands around at the room, “is around nine hundred dollars per month, including utilities. As you’ve noticed, it’s not in a very central location.”

“But public transport is pretty good,” I interjected. “I had no trouble getting here.”

She nodded. “Considering I’m using two rooms while you’re using one, and that I’ll be home most of the time so I’ll be using most of the power and water, I’d say a six hundred and three hundred split sounds fair.”

I blinked. “Wow.”

Irene looked at me curiously. “What?”

“Well, I didn’t expect it to cost so little,” I said. “It is much less than I am paying currently, for a much smaller place. I will have no trouble paying for that.”

“Out of curiosity, what do you do as a job?” she asked.

“I am a barista at Starbucks,” I replied, to which she nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “So you’re taking the offer, I gather?”

“Gladly.”

“Great.” She paused. “There is only one other thing, I want to put it out there so you know and there are no problems later on.” I just looked at her, and nodded, so she took a deep breath and continued, “You see, I’m… I’m transgender. I hope you’re okay with that.”

I gave her a curious look. “Transgender?” I asked. “What is that?”

She returned the look. “You mean you don’t know? Seriously?”

“I do not know that word,” I replied.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, a transgender person is someone who has a different gender than was thought when they were born. And they can change their body to reflect that, if they want.”

I thought about her words for a moment. “Like Queen Consort Emmy and her sister, Stephanie Kennedy?”

“Yes, precisely,” Irene said. “Like them.”

“I have no problem with it,” I said. “It is of no consequence to me.”

“Great!” she said, smiling at me. “Then I’ll call the landlord, and get him to add your name to the lease. When can you move in?”

“Would next week be okay?” I asked.

She nodded. “Perfect.” She stood up, and offered me her hand. “Welcome, Elit. It’s nice to have you as a roommate.”

“Thank you,” I replied, shaking her hand.

-----

“This is the last one,” I said, exhaling as I set the box down on the floor.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding, this is a lot of stuff,” Irene said. “What’s in all of these boxes?”

“Well, these are my clothes,” I said, pointing to two of the boxes. “These are toiletries, plates, and assorted other things.” I pointed to two more boxes.

Irene nodded. “Alright. And what’s all of this then?”

She gestured to several other boxes – about a half-dozen of them – which were crowding the living room.

“That is… Um,” I said. I looked away from her, to avoid meeting her eyes. “That is my anime merchandise.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Seriously?”

I nodded, still not looking directly at her. “Yes. I have DVDs and Blu-rays, some art-books, and figures.”

“Huh,” she said. “So you like anime.”

“I do,” I replied, and turned to face her. “I hope you do not have a problem with it.”

She shook her head. “Not at all. In fact…” She looked around the living room and spread her arms wide. “This room is a bit bare, don’t you think? Plenty of shelves with nothing on them. I’d been meaning to decorate a bit, but never found the time.” She shrugged. “If you want to put some figures or stuff on the shelves, by all means go ahead.”

I looked at her. “Are you sure? I do not want to overstep any boundaries…”

Irene smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. “This is your home too, Elit. You’re not overstepping anything.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile. “I think I will do as you say.”

“You do that,” she said, looking at her watch. “As for me, I have to get to work. Those video games aren’t going to play themselves, you know.” She paused, and then continued, “I don’t remember if I’ve told you, but when I’m working, please don’t interrupt me. If you have to tell me something, wait until I’m done. Unless it’s an emergency, that is.”

I nodded. “I will not bother you unless it is absolutely necessary,” I replied.

“Thanks. Well, see ya later,” she said, and she retreated into her workroom, closing the door behind her. Curious, I eavesdropped at the door for a moment.

“Hello everyone, nya!” I heard Irene say, in a much chipper and happier tone of voice than she’d used with me. “Thank you for coming to my stream tonight! I’m Irene, you may call me Irenyan if you want. And let’s get right into the meat of it: last time we’d started a new game, which we’re continuing today. So let’s dive in! This is XCOM, nya!”

I smiled, and moved away from the door towards the boxes, to start unpacking. As I put my things away, I wondered if Irene was a typical human; I had very little experience with her kind after all, so I had nothing to base my judgement on.

-----

I heard the door open, and turned around just in time to see Irene step out of the room, stretching.

“Wow, that was tiring. But I made some good progress,” she said. Then she stopped, and sniffed deeply. “What smells good?”

“Dinner,” I replied. “I checked the refrigerator and saw you had the ingredients to make a vegetable pie; it has been resting in the oven for about half an hour. We can eat it right away if you want.”

She looked at me in surprise. “You cook?”

“Yes, of course,” I nodded. “Back during the war all we were given were pre-processed rations, but we had to learn how to make proper food afterwards. You can not always rely on restaurants and packaged meals. So come on, food is ready.”

Irene smiled. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

I shrugged. “Well, I had to thank you somehow for offering me a place as your roommate. And I did not have to work today, so I had plenty of time. Come on, let us eat.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” she said; we sat down at the table, and I served two big slices of vegetable pie, one to each of us.

“So, what game were you playing tonight?” I asked. “I am a bit curious, to be honest.”

Irene bit down on a piece of pie, and then replied while chewing and waving her fork around. “Oh, I was playing XCOM. War of the Chosen, to be exact. It’s not a recent game, it’s like five years old at this point, but it’s still fun to play and to watch. This pie is really good.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “And what is the game about?”

“Well, it’s about… Um.” She paused, and looked at me, an embarrassed expression on her face. “Er, it’s about aliens invading and conquering Earth. The player is the commander of the resistance, and they must fight and defeat those aliens.”

I looked at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, that is quite funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” she replied, also laughing. “It’s been a theme in human fiction for, like, more than a hundred years at this point? I think the first to use the trope was Wells. War of the Worlds.”

“I am not familiar with that… movie?”

“Book,” she said. “I’ll lend it to you, I think you’ll find it interesting.”

I nodded. “And, one more thing I was wondering about.” Irene looked at me and hmm-ed questioningly, while chewing her food. “I admit I eavesdropped a bit while you were starting your work, and I heard you say… ‘Irenyan,’ I think it was? And you said ‘nya’ a few times.”

“Oh, that,” she said. “It’s part of my online persona. I’m a catgirl.”

I blinked. “A catgirl.”

“Yes,” she answered. “It’s a way to attract more viewers and subscribers. Plus, it’s fun to pretend.” She looked at me, and hesitated. “I’m… I’m not appropriating something from your culture, am I?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” I replied. “I mean, I may look like this,” I pointed to the ears on top of my head, and moved my tail, swishing it lazily behind me where she could see it, “but I know that ‘cat people,’ and animal people in general, have been a staple of human fiction for quite some time. In anime, especially.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Irene said, and she pointed to a figure I’d placed on one of the shelves in the living room. “That’s Shampoo, right? From Ranma One Half.”

“She is,” I said. “Though I am surprised you know that series.”

“I could say the same,” she replied. “It’s what, thirty years old? That was before you Repulsoids even arrived on Earth. But yes, it’s one of my favourites, it was in re-runs when I was a kid, but I never missed an episode. It’s a bit ironic in hindsight.”

I tilted my head to the side, and looked at her. “What is ironic?”

“That I kept watching that series, and yet I did not realise I am transgender until much later,” she said. “In retrospect, my obsession with it should’ve been a clear hint.”

I gave her a long, hard look, and then nodded. “Huh, I see.”

“So you like Ranma too?”

“It is one of my favourites, too,” I said. “I have the full series on Blu-ray, in fact.”

Irene smiled at me. “So, what do you say we sit down and watch a few episodes? After we’re done with dinner, I mean.”

I nodded again. “Yes, I would like that.”

-----

Two weeks later, I was lounging on the couch, in the middle of a binge-watch of the latest anime I was obsessed with, when the fire alarm went off. I calmly got up, walked to the front door, and opened it, then I realised something.

Irene wasn’t joining me. In fact, the door to her working room was still closed.

Maybe she hadn’t heard the alarm?

I walked to the door and pressed my ear to it. Dimly, almost drowned out by the alarm, I heard her voice: “…dicey. Joanne, girl, what have you got for me? Okay, Null Lance is still on cooldown, so Soulfire it is, nya. Targets, targets… Wait, Spectres are affected by Soulfire? But they’re mechanical, and Soulfire only hits organics.” A pause. “Whatever, I’m not complaining, nya. Joanne, please delete this thing.”

Yeah, it sounded like she was still in the middle of an intense gaming session. She’d told me not to disturb her, but this was an emergency, wasn’t it?

I opened the door, walked in, and put a hand on Irene’s shoulder; she turned around, and looked at me.

“What?” she asked.

“The fire alarm is going off,” I said.

She frowned, and pulled her headphones off. “What?” she asked again.

“There is a fire somewhere in the building, we have to go.”

She looked at me for a second, then nodded. “Sorry, y’all, got an emergency, nya,” she said into her microphone. “I have to leave you for now, I’ll be back ASAP.”

She set her headphones down on the desk, and stood up. “Let’s go.”

I nodded, turned around, and walked towards the door.

“Hold on, are you going out like that?” Irene asked.

I looked back at her. “What do you mean?”

“It’s cold outside, you need something heavier than a t-shirt.”

“All my other clothes are in the wash,” I replied.

“Here, take this.” She reached over and grabbed a hoodie, which was hanging on a coat hook next to the door. “It’s a girl’s model, but it’s better than nothing. Now let’s go.”

“Alright,” I said, pulling on the hoodie and zipping it closed; it fit snugly, and felt quite nice. Shutting the apartment’s door behind us, we made our way downstairs and to the parking lot.

-----

“God, I can’t believe we stood outside in the cold for an hour because someone forgot their pizza in the oven,” Irene said as we climbed back up the stairs.

“Yeah, it is disappointing, is it not?” I replied. “From the way everyone behaved, I thought it would be something more. A whole apartment engulfed in flames, for example.”

“That would’ve been a sight,” she said, opening the door to our apartment. “But it would also have been dangerous, so in the end I’m glad nothing serious happened.” I nodded in agreement, and she continued, “Well, I better get back to work.”

“Okay. See you later,” I said. She smiled at me, retreated into her work room, and shut the door; I sat back down on the couch, and resumed my anime marathon.

It wasn’t until it was time to go to bed that I noticed I was still wearing the hoodie.

-----

There was a knock at the door. I put down my book, got up from the couch, walked up to the door, and opened it: a girl was standing on the other side.

“Hello,” I said. “May I help you?”

“Hi!” she replied brightly. “Is Irene home?”

“I am sorry, but she is working right now.”

“Oh, that’s no big deal,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I can wait here until she’s done.”

I gave her a curious look. “Excuse me, who are you?”

“Oh right!” She extended her hand towards me. “I’m Rachel, Irene’s sister. And you must be Elit!”

“Now that you mention it, I do see the family resemblance,” I said, shaking her hand. “And that is indeed my name. But how do you know it?”

“Irene told me,” Rachel explained. “We’ve talked about you a few times on the phone. After all, you’ve been roommates for what, a month?”

“A month and a half. Come in, I will put some tea on.” I stepped to the side and looked at the clock on the living room wall. “Irene should be done in a few minutes, this is about the time she usually takes a break.”

Rachel nodded, and stepped into the apartment. “Wow, this room has really changed. Lots of new stuff in here.”

“Most of it is mine,” I answered. “Almost everything, in fact. And I am glad I can get to display it, instead of having it packed away in a box.”

As I talked, I walked over to the kitchen, and flicked the switch on the electric kettle; after a few minutes the tea was ready, and almost as if on cue, Irene came out of her work room.

“Oh, hi, Sis!” she said when she saw Rachel sitting at the table, a cup of tea in her hand. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

“I just wanted to visit my little sister, and with the occasion I also wanted to meet this new roommate of yours,” Rachel said, as she waved her tea towards me. “He seems nice.”

Irene nodded, sitting down and smiling as I poured her a cup of her own. “He really is. Since I’ve never lived with anyone, except back when we were kids, I was a bit nervous, but we clicked immediately.”

“We split chores evenly, and respect each other’s privacy and spaces,” I added. “I was a bit nervous too, I have never lived with humans before, but I think it is going well.”

“Though he keeps borrowing my clothes,” Irene added with a smile. “Seriously, Elit, you need to do laundry more often. Or buy some more clothes.”

I looked at her. “Do you mind me borrowing your clothes?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. After all, you always ask before you take them, and wash them afterwards. And since we’re the same size…”

“No, hold on,” Rachel interjected. “Sis, do you still have boy clothes?”

“No, I got rid of the last of them like three months ago,” Irene replied. “Why?”

Rachel looked at me. “So you’re borrowing clothes from my sister.”

“Yes, I am. Is there a problem?” I answered, giving her a curious look.

“You are… a man, correct?” she asked.

“Correct,” I nodded.

“And you see no problem with borrowing clothes – women’s clothes, that is – to wear?”

“No, why should there be a problem?” I said, shrugging. “They fit well, and feel nice.”

Rachel looked at me for a few seconds, then nodded. “Okay!” she exclaimed. “You know what, are you two free on Sunday morning?”

Irene and I exchanged a glance. “I have a stream planned for the afternoon, but nothing in the morning,” Irene said.

“My shift at work starts at one in the afternoon. I am free before that,” I added.

“Okay, great!” Rachel said. “Then we’re going clothes shopping.”

-----

“I think this blouse will fit you well, Elit,” Rachel said, holding it up to my body to check the size. “I’ve also seen a few jackets that look nice.”

“And you should try on these trousers,” Irene added, showing them to me.

I gave them both a look, narrowing my eyes. “You are having fun, are you not?”

“Of course we are,” Rachel grinned. “It’s not every day you get to have your own dress-up doll.”

I smirked. “So is that all I am to you?”

“At the moment? Yes,” she said. “Got a problem with that?”

“No, not at all,” I replied, shaking my head. “I am enjoying it.”

“Good!” Irene exclaimed. “Then, go on. Try these on. We’ll wait outside.”

They pushed me into a changing room, where I quickly shed the clothes I was wearing, before pulling on the blouse and trousers. I moved around a bit until I managed to free my tail, then pulled the curtain back open.

“How does this look?” I asked.

Irene and Rachel looked at me for a moment, then nodded in approval. “Really good,” Rachel said. “Though I’m not quite convinced that the blouse jives with the trousers. Oh, hold on, I think I got it.”

She scampered away, and was back in a few moments, holding another piece of clothing, which she handed to me.

“Here, try this on,” she said.

Irene gave her a look. “Sis… that’s a skirt.”

Rachel looked back at her, shrugging. “Yeah, it is. And?”

Irene hesitated, then turned to me. “Are you comfortable with wearing a skirt?”

“Of course, why would I not be?” I replied. “It is clothes, after all.”

“…Okay,” Irene said. “Try it on, then.”

Once again, I retreated into the changing room, and swapped the trousers out for the skirt, which fell down to just above my knees. It fit much better, was a better complement for the shirt, and above all, my tail didn’t feel as cramped as before.

“I like this,” I declared, pulling the curtain open. “I think I will buy it.”

“Great!” Irene said. “But I think it needs something more.”

They both put their hands to their chin and looked at me sceptically, until Irene smiled. “Hold on, I got it.”

She searched inside her handbag for a few moments, then pulled out a hair clip I’d seen her wear a few times before, decorated with sparkling rhinestones; she reached forward, and clipped it to my hair, right above my ear, then leaned back and nodded in satisfaction.

“Yeah, I think this fits,” she said.

I turned around and looked at myself in the mirror. “Yes, it does. Thank you.” I looked at my watch, and continued, “But now we have to go, or I will be late for my shift.”

“Alright,” Rachel nodded, and gathered the clothes I’d decided to buy. “Take those off, we’ll bring them home for you.”

I kept looking at myself in the mirror for a few moments, then turned to face her. “No, I think I will wear these out of the store.”

Rachel and Irene both looked at me in surprise. “You mean… you’re going to work dressed like that?” Rachel asked.

I nodded. “Yes, I think I will do that.”

She seemed to hesitate for a few moments, then nodded. “Okay.”

We gathered my purchases and made our way to the till, where I paid for them: it cost me all the money I’d saved over the previous two months by living with Irene, but I decided it was worth it. Then I said goodbye to the two girls, and made my way to my workplace.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” I said, entering the break room through the back door.

“’afternoon, Elit,” Ellen, one of my co-workers, said; then she stopped, and stared at me.

There was a protracted moment of silence, until I tilted my head to the side, and asked, “What is it?”

“What are you wearing?”

I looked down at myself. “Oh, I just bought these clothes. Do you think they look good?”

Ellen nodded slowly. “Yeah, they do.” She paused for a moment, and then continued, “Is there something you want to tell us, Elit?”

I looked at her, puzzled. “No, I do not think so.”

“…Okay. Let’s get to work then.”

I nodded, pulled out my apron from my locker, and put it on.

All through the afternoon, I busied myself making coffee and serving food, barely taking notice of the fact that the vast majority of customers that passed through our store took one look at me, and then called me “miss,” “girl,” “lady,” or some variation on those; also, they consistently referred to me with what I’d come to learn were female pronouns – she and her. Those facts made me feel quite good, but I was so busy I didn’t have time to stop and think about why that was.

Until I got off work in the evening, and got on the bus to go home, that is.

I sat back for the hour-long trip (luckily I didn’t have to change buses), and thought about my day.

Wearing women’s clothes felt good. So did getting referred to by female pronouns, and being called “miss.” That much was a fact, I’d come to realise it.

On the other hand, wearing men’s clothes felt… Well, not bad. But I was indifferent to them. They were baggy, a bit itchy, and didn’t fit as well as women’s clothing. I did not dislike them, but I didn’t like them as much as the clothes I kept borrowing from Irene – or the clothes I’d bought that day, for that matter.

The same was true for male pronouns, and whenever someone called me “man” or “mister.” It didn’t feel bad, but it didn’t feel good, either. Not as good as when I was called “girl” or “lady.”

Hm.

This was… Quite interesting.

I pulled out my cell phone, pulled up a search page, and typed carefully.

I am a male but I like women’s clothes and being called “miss.”

I pushed the button, and started sifting through the search results.

-----

I unlocked the door to my apartment, and walked in. “I am home!” I announced.

Irene poked her head out from the kitchen. “Welcome back, Elit! Dinner’s in fifteen minutes, Rachel’s staying for it too.”

“Hi!” Rachel said, looking out from the kitchen, too.

“Hello,” I replied, as they retreated back into the room. “Oh, by the way, I am a woman.”

There was a clanging of dropped cutlery from the kitchen, and after a few seconds the two sisters looked back out again.

“Come again?” Irene asked.

“I am a woman,” I repeated. “I thought about it, and it just makes sense.”

They both gave me identical, bewildered looks. “Just like that? No big, earth-shattering revelation? No agonising about it?” Rachel asked; Irene elbowed her in the ribs. “What?” Rachel continued. “It’s weird that her reaction is so subdued.”

“It is not weird at all,” I replied. “Gender is of little consequence for Repulsoids, it has only a small bearing on our society. Much less than for human society, I have noticed. If I feel better being a woman, then it only makes sense that I be a woman,” I concluded with a shrug.

They looked at me for a moment, then both nodded. “Alright,” Irene said. “But it’s still a cause for celebration! We’ll open a bottle and have a party tonight. What do you say?”

“I would like that,” I nodded.

“But for the moment…” Irene continued, and she stepped forward and hugged me tight. “Congratulations, my girl. I’m glad you figured yourself out.”

Unconsciously, I started purring a bit. “Thank you, Irene,” I replied.